In the Name of Crime
by gleekymcgrey
Summary: Forensic Anthropologist, FBI Special Agent, Foster Kid, and a morbid crime that will change their lives...forever. Love conquers all, but...can it, really?


Hi! I'm back with a new suspense slash romance fan fiction. First of all, thank you all for your support with 'The Lonely Track'. When I'm upset I visit the reviews corner and read them all over and over again.

Despite the similarity, I assure you this new story isn't the same as the previous one.

Please, please, leave your reviews! Motivation is everything :)

Enjoy!

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_Prologue:_

_Dark…cold…cold…cold…_

_If she stayed one more minute, she knew she was going to freeze to death. Her eyes caught the slightest glimpse of sunlight, yet it was five to six feet away. She knew she could do it; only, she'd have to do it silently. With the throbbing of her head and thigh, and the seemingly involuntary moans that came out of her mouth, stealth was impossible._

_She rested her head against a cool metal, weighing her options. Thinking seemed to be the only thing she could do without giving out too much noise. If she stayed, the men will come back and slaughter her alive; If she planned to escape, they might catch her, and torture her. _

_Either way, death will be waiting. But it would be better if she tried to fight._

_Slowly, she got up, her left thigh burning and throbbing and bleeding at the same time. With all the energy she had used up, she ran as fast as she could to the nearest light._

_Boom, whoosh, and bang, bang, bang!_

_Her hands went over her head, cautiously ducking, trying to get away from certain death. She could hear it now; the overwhelming spill of water from the tanks, the guns, and the mortifying footsteps made by what seemed to be heavy army boots._

_As much as she had wanted to cry—no voice would come out._

_Bang, bang and bang! And another tank breaks. She had never been so afraid in her life. _

_Pain seared through her wounded thigh, and she dropped to the floor, vision getting dimmer, everything getting darker. She never quite predicted that she'd die this way. She felt her own blood leave her body. She crawled to the nearest crate and prayed to the God she didn't believe in and said—__save the others._

_She wished for the captors to not find her alive. If they do they'll cure her, and torture her yet again. _

_She blinked, and colors began to emerge from the corner of her eyes. She blinked again, and saw nothing._

_-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-_

_Maybe luck had brought her there. For a teenager who'd had seventeen homes in less than two years, the hope for a more stable, kinder family dies little by little by each passing bruise, scold, and abandonment. Maybe fate decided to be nicer, taking her to the beautiful city of Washington, D.C., signing her up to the care of a very rich woman. For Claudine Tate, a fifteen year old, finance is almost everything. _

_So maybe, her eighteenth home wouldn't be too bad._

_Maybe…_

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**Sixteen weeks earlier...**

**Washington, District of Colombia**

Brennan didn't quite know how she'd handle a foster kid in her house. She had been listed as a foster parent for years now, and a fifteen year old—named Claudine—will be her first ever assignment. It would be a thrill, to finally have the chance to get back on her experience—in a good way. Brennan knew in her heart that no child should be abused, no matter how different they were, and she was going to put her words into action.

She laid out the sheets on the soft mattress, slid new pillow cases to the pillows, dusted the furniture, and swept the floor until everything were spick-and-span.

With a nervous sigh, she chomped on a fresh Caesar side salad, and gulped a gooey cucumber and apple smoothie.

Refreshing…

Brennan glanced at her wall clock—ten fifty one. Cam knew she'd come in late. The lack of cases meant no paperwork, and no paperwork meant a light day. She took a quick shower, and changed into her typical outfit—a simple dress and black stockings underneath her red Burberry trench coat, and low boots.

She took her car to the streets, and was soon in the Royal Diner's lot, walking in to the entrance door, waiting for any signs of her partner. He had told her he would have lunch with her, and he had never forgotten since.

As if on cue, an agitated Seeley Booth marked his entrance, and went straight to their usual booth.

"What happened?" concerned of his welfare, she asked.

Booth didn't seem to want to talk about anything but he forced the words out of his mouth, anyway, "I have a case, Bones. Three teenagers killed in Virginia,"

"_You _have a case? Does that mean anything?"

He nodded, "Yeah, the bodies are intact so we wouldn't need your bone-reading skills this time,"

This was a first. Brennan couldn't help but feel a little behind, but he was right, he doesn't need her now. It would be bad to wish for skinned bodies just so she could work on something. Now that was just plain selfish, and disgusting—and somewhat sadistic.

She grinned, "Well, you'll still need Hodgins and Cam, right?"

Without their knowledge, the waitress had already dropped of their usual orders, and Booth dove into his pie without a moment's doubt. "Well yeah, we still have bug and slime and DNA stuffs,"

"The teenager from the foster home is coming today," she said lowly.

He looked up. He always seemed to know when something was off. "Are you sure you're fine? You know we could always make a call and hand her over to other foster parents, Bones,"

"No," she shot back, "I'm sure at this. I'm just…nervous."

"Hey," he instinctively put his hand on hers, "You're a good person, Bones. I know you'll be better than any of the foster homes you had in the past,"

His smile was too convincing not to believe in. It could be scientifically improbable, but his confidence and warmth was infectious to her.

She looked into his eyes and all she saw was the loyalty and sincerity he had for her. Just one look and she knew he was hers.

"Thanks, Booth," she said heartily.

"Hmm, doesn't matter, Bones," he retorted, and continued to gobble on his slice of apple pie.

Soon they were full, and all ready for the bus station. Above all things, Brennan was inexperienced when it came to strangers, and having one in her house for who knew how long would be twice a chore. In twenty minutes or so, they both stood under the protective roofing of the waiting shed…anxiously waiting.

Bus 3293 stopped, and a heap of people of all ages exited through its massive door.

"Is it this bus?" he asked timidly.

Brennan checked her records in her PDA, and nodded slightly. In the sea of people, stood out a young lass, her vivid red hair made more prominent by the brown, blonde, and black crowd. In spite her bold appearance, you could tell she was quite an introvert the way she ducked her way out and how her hands hid behind her back.

"That's the one," Brennan said. _What could be the deal of this girl?_

She held out a photo from the folder she was wearing. It took a moment for Booth to recognize the girl in the photo. It was startling how make-up could do so much to a person. In the photo was a fresh-faced young girl, possibly in her early teens, with wide, wide blue eyes, peachy skin-tone, dark brown hair and thin lips curved into an innocent smile.

In a distance, a completely different lady stood waiting.

"You're sure?"

"Yes," She calmly confirmed.

Booth heaved out a heavy breath, "Sure, this is your thing, I forgot,"

They marched down the stone pathway, and watched the girl tense as they neared her. Booth knew she recognized the suit, and everything in him that screamed 'authority'. He shrugged it off, knowing he could only know so little about children like her. He wouldn't know what she'd been through to get to her eighteenth foster parent.

"Claudine Tate?" Brennan asked. "I'm Temperance Brennan,"

She merely returned a sly smile, but the tension slipped away little by little. She straightened her faded blue shirt, and picked up her back pack. "I'm Claudine,"

"This is Booth, my friend,"

Claudine only nodded.

"Shall we?" Booth took the initiative to get them going, before they would stall on the spot forever.


End file.
